We've Got Tonight
by AsWeWaxPoetic
Summary: Based loosely off of 4x14 spoilers. Starts the night of the wedding and continues on as Quinn and Santana try to figure out what this new thing between them means.
1. Chapter 1

"What are you doing?" Santana asked; trying her best not to trip over her words as the nights wine intake comes rushing in all at once. She needs her voice to remain steady because everything else is too much. Her skin burns where pale hands trace designs up her arms, her head is spinning… Equal parts the effect of the wine and the woman standing so close to her. And her heart is racing, threatening to jump right out of her chest.

"Is this okay?" Quinn whispers, pressing another tentative kiss against Santana's throat, in a tone that cause a moan to get caught in the other woman's' throat.

"Yea – god, yes. But what is this? What are –"

"Shhh." Quinn hushes her, bringing their lips together.

She's suddenly unsure as to where to place her hands. They seem unfamiliar. Much like the situation. She allows herself to get lost in the kiss, and the next time she opens her eyes Quinn is standing before her in nothing but her underwear. It's then she allows herself to moan.

"God, Quinn."

She knows her hands are shaking as she brings them to rest on Quinn's waist.

"Are you sure?"

Quinn nearly laughs, but she can barely hear it over the ringing in her ears. This is going to happen. This IS happening, and it's almost too much. She barely has a chance to process how much she wants this, how long she's wanted it, before Quinn's hands are on her back, unzipping her dress and allowing it to pool at her feet.

The answer to her question doesn't come in the form of words, instead it comes in breathless moans, and tugs on her hair, and gentle familiar travels across her skin that shouldn't be as natural as they are. This is all new, but it's something more than that, it seems like it was inevitable. Like every moment that came before this was leading towards the lazy kisses that take place as they come down from their highs and the situation sinks in.

It feels right, and she murmurs that much against the blondes shoulder as she takes her in her arms and holds her tight, pulling the covers over them and welcoming sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

She's smiling when she wakes up the next morning. But it doesn't last long. Her arms are empty, and the bed beside her is cold. She doesn't even need to open her eyes to know that she's alone, and probably has been for a while, but she does… and to assume she's alone is one thing, to actually take it in, is a completely different demon. It hurts, probably more than it should given the fact that they'd only come together the night before. No promises were made, they didn't acknowledge what it meant… what it could mean. And so, yea, it hurts.

Sitting up in bed she clutches the sheets to her chest, suddenly uncomfortable with her lack of clothing even though she's the only person in the room. She's cold, and she feels so alone. More alone than she's felt in months, and maybe more alone than she's ever felt. Which is saying something because she loved Brittany more than she ever thought she could love another person and their romance was long and drawn out, full of powerful crescendos of indescribable passion, and the lowest of lows. She's no stranger to lonely nights and waking up alone, but now, it's different. And it's strange because it shouldn't be, she shouldn't be feeling this much. But she is. It's as if Quinn awakened something lying dormant inside her for some time, years probably, if she's being completely honest with herself.

She forces herself to shower, and as she stands in front of the mirror, wiping away the condensation, she sees the physical reminder of their coming together on her neck and chest. And if she were to turn around she knows there would be little red lines from where Quinn's nails scratched down her back as the woman arched below her, panting her name. But she doesn't turn around, she can't.

"You and Quinn were pretty cozy on the dance floor last night." Rachel mentions casually from beside her on the trip home, hours later.

"I'm surprised you noticed seeing as you were practically climbing Frankenteen like he was the beanstalk and you were trying to get your hands on some magic beans."

"I'd hardly call that climbing Santana, but you're dodging the question. What was that?"

The glare she throws towards the shorter woman is full of fire and she bites her tongue to stop herself from saying something she might regret. She is basically squatting in her apartment, and even though she knows it would be unlikely for anything she could say to change that, but she's not all that keen on being homeless.

"Rachel." Kurt says, and his tone holds a strange and uncertain sense of warning that Santana is grateful for.

"Fine. I'll drop it."

And Rachel actually does, surprising everyone. The chiming of her phone catches all of their attention in the tense silence, and it takes her a few moments to realize what it is. She's been checking her phone incessantly since waking up alone. Her stomach drops and she feels a plethora of different emotions come over her when the name "Quinn Fabray" is displayed across the lock screen.

Taking in a deep breath that she prays goes unnoticed by her roommates, she reads the message.

"I'm sorry."

That's all it says, and she can't help the eye roll that follows or the fire that burns in her heart or the way her throat closes up a little bit as she tries to figure out what her reply will be. She settles on "whatever" because it's pretty much the nicest option on the long list of things flying through her head right now.

She looks up, and the way Rachel looks away quickly and tries to busy herself with the magazine in her hand lets her know that the other woman has probably seen everything and is probably creating an entire drawn out storyline for what the exchange she witnessed could possibly mean. She'll deal with that later.

Her phone beeps again a few moments later and the next incoming message calms her nerves, but only slightly. It's then she realizes she can't remember the last time either one of them had apologized to the other… it's been years, if ever, and that has to mean something.

Turning away from Rachel's prying eyes she reads Quinn's response.

"I don't want you to think I regret it, I don't. I freaked out this morning and I hate that I left you alone like that, but I had to get out of there to think. To process what this means."

"And what does it mean?" She responds, and curses herself when she realizes she also said it aloud, garnering Rachel's attention once more.

The response is instantaneous: "I don't know… But, I think I'd like to find out."

She's smiling now, and she hates it. Almost as much as she hates the way Rachel sits beside her, smiling smugly, like she has any fucking clue what is really going on. But, mostly she hates the way she feels like she's flying, that there are butterflies in her stomach and she can almost sense the exact moment her heartbeat picks up. It's racing now.

She types out another reply, promising to call that evening once she can get some privacy. Once she has time to think, because if she's being honest with herself, completely 100% honest in a way she rarely allows herself to be, she wants desperately to see where this is going, what it means. Quinn says she'll be in the library until 10, with a study group, but is free after that. She's still nowhere near okay with everything, or done processing it, but she doesn't feel lonely anymore. She doesn't feel sad. She feels hopeful. And that's a start.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Clearly, I own nothing of worth.

A/N: Hope you all are enjoying this fic. I definitely didn't expect to start writing it yesterday, nor did I think I would keep myself up so late working on this chapter when I had to be up for work at 5:30. Happy Reading. Reviews are wonderful motivators and just all around pleasant, so feel free to leave some.

* * *

The time reads 9:47 when she checks it for the countless time that evening. Not even a minute has passed since the last time she checked and she tosses her phone onto the counter with a bit of force, letting out a sigh of frustration as she runs her hands through her hair.

She's losing it. Going full on crazy with anticipation for the conversation ahead. And the fact that she feels this way after so little time should bother her. Not even two weeks have passed since she was standing in the auditorium, back in Lima letting Brittany go for the time being. Giving her ex the time to grow and live, while accepting the challenge to do the same. That's what she told herself when she waltzed in to casa del Hummelberry and curled up in one of their spare blankets on the couch praying for sleep to come as she tossed and turned, simultaneously terrified and excited by all the possibilities the decision to jump on a train and come to New York provided her.

9:52 is the time when she picks up her phone again. It will have to do. She has eight more minutes to over-analyze the situation at hand, and she's going to make the most of it.

Her phone buzzes and Quinn's name pops up on the screen. She opens the message all too quickly, and laughs at herself when she nearly drops her phone thanks to her nerves.

"This guy won't shut up. I hate group projects. It might be closer to 11 when I get out of here, is that too late?"

She shakes her head. Too late? They're young college students, well, Quinn is, she's just young. Even if they weren't she'd stay awake until dawn to have this conversation, a fact that is equal parts terrifying and endearing.

She realizes she's getting lost in her thoughts once again, and types out a quick response.

It's 9:58 when she finally sends her reply, having re-written it countless times trying to seem natural.

"Definitely not too late!"

She spends five minutes thinking about whether or not the exclamation point was too much before she catches herself and nervously laughs at how uncool she's being right now.

"Great. I'll call you as soon as I get out "

Fucking emoticons, she thinks, rolling her eyes, but she still smiles. Emoticons are tricky, much like texting in general. So many different contexts and ways to use them and for someone prone to overthinking things, especially when it comes to love. Love? No, it's too soon for that, but romance is definitely on the table. "Women" is probably a more accurate category to place this under. And she can barely use the plural, because aside from Brittany, the fleeting "energy exchange" she still scoffs at in retrospect with that girl in the library, and the completely fabricated thing with Elaine… Quinn brings her actual, possible feelings involved, legitimate interest, in a girl to the number two. So yea, "Women," is now applicable.

It's 10:06, and she's standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, staring at her reflection closely for a minute, searching for something. She splashes some water onto her face a few minutes later, trying to pull herself together.

10:14

It's just Quinn, she tells herself as she plops down on her bed.

Her old teammate.

The girl she spent countless nights in a cabin with at cheerleading camp every year starting the summer before freshman year.

The girl who slept on a palate on the floor of her bedroom, just a few feet away from where she first started exploring her inner most desires in the form of stolen kisses and clammy hand-holding that lead to hushed whispers and sleep deprived giggles with Brittany.

The same Quinn she held at one of Puck's parties, the summer after sophomore year, as the blonde drunkenly sobbed, holding onto her in the darkness as the confusing reality of giving up Beth overwhelmed her. They never talked about it. Nor did they talk about the way she would run her fingers through blonde hair, whispering into her ear trying her best to calm her friend. They didn't talk about it the first time it happened.

Or the second.

Or the third.

But she can't help but think of it, and the way Quinn's breath hitched when she would place comforting, and completely (well, probably not completely, but neither one of them knew that at the time, or were willing to acknowledge it), platonic kisses to the blonde's forehead and neck once her tears finally began to subside.

The same Quinn who she shoved in the hallway while spewing vicious words she knew good and damn well would hurt.

The same Quinn she slapped over Thanksgiving break.

The same Quinn who wrapped an arm around her shoulder, knowing better than to say anything, as she explained her reasons behind breaking up with Brittany and the weeks that followed said breakup, when they visited New York to counsel Rachel.

The same Quinn who surprised her by pulling out a fake I.D within moments of revealing her own at the wedding the previous night…

The same Quinn who trailed kisses down her body, and had her gasping for air as she expertly played her like a fine-tuned instrument…

It's just Quinn, and this time she says it aloud in the faintest whisper, and even before the words leave her lips she knows the statement has zero validity.

She's no longer "just Quinn" and she hasn't been since they agreed to discuss this "thing" earlier, if not before that.

Everything is different now. And as she sits in her makeshift room in Bushwick, under the same roof as Rachel and Kurt, the extent to which that statement is true becomes overwhelming, and she closes her eyes to try and find some sort of calm.

11:35.

Her phone rings, blaring "Crazy Bitch", startling her awake. And yea, the ring tone was meant to be a joke… Quinn can definitely be both crazy and a bitch; but with things as they are now, the song choice seems both incredibly, yet ironically, fitting and also a bit inappropriate. She makes a mental note to change it immediately as she answers the phone.

"Hello?" She whispers, a bit nervous, hoping her tone doesn't give away the fact that she was asleep seconds before.

"Were you asleep?" Quinn asks.

"No." She answers a bit too quickly.

"Liar."

She knows Quinn's just teasing, but she can't help the familiar way she reacts. Venom. Defense.

"If someone hadn't kept me waiting for over an hour, maybe I'd be a bit more bright eyed and coherent."

"I can't help that some of us have assignments to do."

And she knows Quinn doesn't mean it the way they both interpret it, although the tone is definitely intentional. They're slipping back into familiar rolls. This time, it's just all wrong.

"I'm sorry, I – I didn't mean…" Quinn stutters.

"I know. Look, let's start over. How was your study group?"

"Fine. There are five of us which seems a bit unnecessary, and we were all on the same page and ready to leave when one guy decided to completely ruin our angle, so we had to start over."

"What a dick."

"My thoughts exactly."

"What class is this for?"

"This English course on Milton."

Santana fake snores for a second.

"Sorry, I just had a flashback to English with Mr. Ass Breath and checked out for a second."

"You loved that class."

"Please, it was terrible. I slept the whole time."

"Whatever you say, I distinctly remember you going off on JBI over Paradise Lost"

"That's just because I like to argue, and he wouldn't stop trying to force metaphors down our throat that he read on cliffs notes."

"Right."

Silence. It's not exactly awkward, but there's definitely some tension.

"You make it back to your dorm?"

"Just getting in now. My roommates out, which isn't at all surprising."

"I'm glad somebody's partying on that campus while you waste away in the library."

"I party plenty."

"Right. Clam bakes and secret L-Word Societies."

She smiles when Quinn laughs and it spreads across her whole face. That comment definitely leads them right into the reason they're having this phone call, and the weight of it is a bit overwhelming.

"So… I guess we should talk." Quinn says nervously.

She can hear a bit of shuffling before it's quiet again and imagines Quinn getting situated under her very pottery barn WASP-y bed spread.

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

"Santana…"

Her tone is warning, and Santana sighs before getting right to it.

"You just left."

"I know."

"I didn't know what to think. No note. No message for hours. Nothing. That was shitty, Quinn."

"I know, and – "

"You're sorry."

"Yea."

"Why?"

"Why what? Why did I leave? Or, why did I jump you last night?"

"Both, I guess."

"I was overwhelmed."

"Which one are we talking about?"

"Both."

"Okay…"

"I wanted you. And yea the wine added to that, but aside from a bit of courage it played no part in last night. Everyone around us was coupling up, and you were right there next to me and I just… I wanted you."

"You wanted me?"

"Yea…"

"And now?"

"I still do."

It comes out in a whisper, and she's not quite sure if she even heard it properly.

"But still, you left."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I told you, I was overwhelmed."

"I know I'm not one to make any comments about gay panic, because, HELLO, I obviously became well acquainted with Narnia… But we weren't even drunk by the time we fell asleep. What changed?"

"Nothing and everything."

"I'm gonna need you to be a little more vague Quinn, all this text is a little much and I'd like to read between the lines."

"I didn't want to wake up and find out you were hoping another blonde spent the night in your arms."

"What, like I fucked you while thinking about her? Do you really think I would do that to you?"

"No. I know you wouldn't, but… God. This is all coming out wrong. I woke up this morning, and I realized I'd never felt that way before. I'm not just talking about the sex, although that was -"

Santana can't help but smirk at Quinn's flustered tone.

"It wasn't just that. When I woke up, I felt happy."

"What's so terrible about that?"

"Do you know the last time I woke up feeling like that? Really, truly happy… I can't. And there I was, lying in the arms of my part time frienemy… and I was happy. So I left."

"I wish you hadn't."

"Yea. Me too."

"This is going to be terrible, you know. We're going to fight a lot… You're busy Ivy-leaguing it up and getting your "Lady Skulls" on, I'm going to be busting my ass once I get a job. I live with the two biggest gossip queens on the East Coast and we're both so fucking stubborn."

"I know."

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long have you thought about this?"

"If I'm being honest, since truth or dare at cheerleading camp after freshman year."

"Bull shit."

"It's true. Not that I let myself think about it. You were doing your thing with Brittany and everyone else, and I got knocked up, and then…I didn't let my thoughts go there, or at least I didn't acknowledge it after they would. But seeing you at the wedding really made me realize it. Knowing you were single again... And I'd be remiss for failing to mention that there may or may not have been a spicy Latina at a party orientation weekend."

"A 'spicy Latina,' really Q?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What is this to you?"

"I don't know."

"Oh."

"No, it's not what you think. You aren't a rebound or whatever, okay? Last night happened because I wanted you. Not because I want someone else, or because I want to stop wanting someone else. It was you. And it isn't the first time I've thought about it."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Silence, again. But she doesn't feel the need to fill it. It isn't awkward, it isn't tense, it's just there.

Quinn yawns moments later, then quickly apologizes.

"It's okay. It's been a long day. You have class in the morning?"

"Yea, at 9."

"Go to sleep."

"No, we need to talk."

"I think we covered plenty of ground for one night. Call me tomorrow?"

"Yea, okay." Quinn agrees through another series of yawns.

"Goodnight, Q."

"Goodnight, S. Sleep tight."

"You too." Santana whispers before hanging up.

Dropping her phone onto the bed next to her, she leans back into her pillows. She's not tired, completely the opposite, actually.

Groaning, she pulls herself out of bed, venturing into the kitchen.

"Late night phone date?" Kurt asks from the darkness, startling her.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Hummel." She spits out after she catches her breath.

"Sorry. Who has you all flushed and tense?"

"I don't know, maybe my rainbow ninja roommate giving me a heart attack in the darkness."

"Nope."

"Whatever." She mumbles, moving past him to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

"You and Quinn, huh? That's… interesting."

"Not gonna happen."

"What? If the look on your face, last nights 'The Real L-word: Ohio' episode, and the trip home are any indications, I'd say it already has."

"Wasn't talking about that. I was talking about this. Right now. Girl talk."

"Would you rather talk to Rachel, or Brittany?"

She can tell he regrets the last part as soon as the words leave his lips, so she cuts him a break. Later, when she's back in bed, she'll think about it and wonder how the hell she's going to even think about starting that particular conversation with her ex… But for now, she just sighs, and takes a seat on one of his "practically designer, vintage" bar stools that she swears some kid made in home-ec before their parents donated them to charity.

"Well…" She starts.

"Well, what?" He asks, putting the final touches on his cup of "night time" tea that he and Berry drink religiously.

"Just say it."

"Say what?" He asks, and the amusement in his tone is only somewhat irritating, she'd be laughing at herself too.

"Girl talk, or whatever."

He lights up, and she rolls her eyes.

"You and Quinn."

"That much has been established. Keep up."

"You two…"

"Yes. And don't think I didn't notice Blaine skipping out of your room, hair gel-less, and practically whistling show tunes this morning, either."

"Yea… So, you two had a dialogue about feelings. One of you freaked out and left the other alone, and now you're trying to figure things out."

"Sort of. We had sex. I woke up alone. She apologized. We talked. She went to sleep."

"And now what?"

"I don't know."

"What do you want to happen?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

"Have I fantasized about Quinn before? I was a closet-case stuck spending countless hours in a Cheerios locker room with hot girls, two of which were my best friends, both of which I've now slept with. So yea, I've thought about it. And Quinn's been pinging my gaydar since the first time she chewed out Berry and then watched her walk away like a sad puppy. But, this… this is different."

"I always thought her ladies room art was a bit… risqué, for someone who didn't like girls. But, we've obviously figured that one out. How is this different?"

"She's Quinn. We don't… we don't do romance, we do kicking and screaming and below the belt insults."

"Sounds a bit like your twisted form of four play, or, at the very least, unrequited sexual tension."

"You're ridiculous, I'm going to bed." She says with a laugh, moving to stand up. He pulls her right back down, and waves off her fiery glare.

"I'm just saying maybe there was something more to it all along."

"When exactly was I pining after Q? When I was messing around with Britt for years? Or when I was going to sleep hating myself when she was with Artie because I didn't admit my feelings… Or eight months ago when I nearly bought a ring from Tiffany's but talked myself out of it."

"I'm not saying anything like that. And Tiffany's? Color, cut, and clarity…?"

"Stay on topic, Princess."

"Right… I'm not saying you weren't in love with Brittany, we all know that's true, and may always be… I'm just saying, maybe in between all those other closet-induced feelings, there was something there for Quinn too. Last night obviously meant something, to both of you, and the conversation you had tonight ended on a good note… But even that doesn't matter. What matters is what you want to do now. Are you going to explore this new thing? Or are you going to just chalk it up to being a one night stand between two drunk friends, and move on."

"It wasn't a one night stand." She says immediately.

"Well then… I guess we'll just have to see what happens next." He takes another sip from his cup of tea, before standing.

"Wait, that's it? That was 'girl talk'?"

"Goodnight, Santana." He says in that singsong tone of his.

She groans before returning to her bed and staring up at the ceiling. Apparently sleep still wasn't in the cards.

Cutting off the lamp at her bedside, she closes her eyes, willing away all the complicated thoughts flowing through her brain.

Her phone chimes.

A text.

1:58

"Stop over-thinking things like a psycho and go to sleep" is all it says, and she startles herself with the laugh that falls from her lips.

"Goodnight, Q." She sends, and waits for the reply that mirrors her sentiment moments later.

When it comes, she puts her phone aside and closes her eyes once more.

Sleep becomes her.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thanks to all who have read/reviewed. Hope you like this new chapter. The next one should be up within the next two days :)

* * *

I have NO game. Is what she thinks, two days later, as she tries to compose a text. She wants to see Quinn again. Needs to, actually. They've talked off and on, but Quinn is insanely busy getting her Ivy League on, and she spends her days trekking across NYC in search of a job, before trying to avoid getting groped by questionable looking people on the sketchy ride back to Bushwick. And then, when she finally gets home, she has to listen to Rachel and Kurt rattle on about NYADA without so much as taking a breath between sentences… That is exhausting enough without everything else.

So, they mostly text. A lot. And right now she's trying to find the best way to ask what the other girl is doing the following weekend, choosing to bypass the coming one because another week of distance will provide her with enough time to actually come to terms with seeing Quinn face to face after their encounter. It should also give them plenty of time to figure out what they do next.

She knows she's thinking too much about it, story of her life, really… But she can't help it. So, she just asks. The response doesn't come immediately, and thirty minutes later when her phone hasn't lit up with an incoming message she can't help but think she's scared Quinn off. Which is a little strange because they wouldn't even be in this weird in between if it weren't for Quinn taking the initiative and practically jumping her. And she's totally not complaining about that, because Hello? It was hot. And now she wants more.

Needs more.

The response comes three hours later: Probably camping out in the library, did you have something in mind?

And it's immediately followed by another: Sorry it took me so long to respond, I left my phone on my bed and I've been in class all day.

I want to see you, she sends, without a second thought.

She smirks when the response comes in: That could be arranged. My place, or yours?

She thinks about it for a few minutes. Imagines both scenarios…

The first involves her picking Quinn up at Grand Central Station… Would she bring flowers? Yes. No. Maybe? It seems a little cliché, but then again this is Quinn she's dealing with. The girl went nearly murderous over a prom queen campaign, and is pretty much the epitome of "girly" for all intents and purposes… but it just doesn't feel like them. Whatever "them" is, or will be. They grab coffee on the way home, take a stroll through the park… then head back to the apartment where…

"NOPE." She says aloud, immediately realizing what happens next in that particular scenario. Her roommates will promise to stay cool, and she'll threaten their lives if they act differently, but she knows it would be a disaster. No matter how "cool" they acted, they'd still be nosey, and constantly having silent conversations in front of them, ooh-ing and ahh-ing like the big losers they are.

Yours, she sends back.

Then she imagines them traipsing across Yale, glove covered hands brushing against each other until one of them finally makes the move to clasp them together. Quinn would tell her all about the history of the school, and speak with such wonder and knowledge that she knows her cheeks will be burning from taking in that beautiful scene. Yea, New Haven will be wonderful. She doesn't even bother thinking about the potential problems involving where Quinn's roommate will be, and the fact that she probably only has a twin sized bed… She just wants to see her.

"Kurt, she's doing it again." Rachel says, bringing her out her reverie. When did they get home?

"What?"

"That thing where you gaze off into space like there's wind blowing through you hair and you're a character in some black and white romance flick." Kurt responds from the kitchen.

"Not possible."

"Completely possible." Rachel says, sitting down next to her on the couch and letting out a long breath. The girl is still in her dance gear and looks exhausted.

"How was class?" Santana asks, hoping this will provide her a way out of their current conversation; Rachel loves talking about herself after all.

"Terrible. Nice try, but it's not going to work."

"We're not having this conversation." She says, and is thankful when she gets a text message.

"You might as well tell her, you know she won't stop pestering you until you do."

"It's true. Wait. KURT KNOWS? Why does he get to know? See, this is exactly what I was afraid of when you moved in. There's too much history. It was only a matter of time before we branched off into cliques and someone got left behind."

Another text comes in and she's not listening anymore, but she knows Rachel is still talking, and probably will be for quite some time.

Perfect. Calling you. The text says. She's smiling like an idiot, and she knows it. Her phone rings and she immediately answers it.

"Hey!" She says a little too quickly. "One second let me go somewhere less…"

"Squawky?" Quinn offers.

"Exactly." She says with a laugh, Rachel's still talking and not even looking in her direction at this point. She grabs her keys off the coffee table and heads towards the front door.

"Hey! I'm still talking!" Rachel says as she heads out.

"Okay. Sorry. Hi." She says once she sits down in the emergency staircase the door to which is never locked.

"Hi. What was Berry yelling at you about?"

"Nothing important, just your typical Rachel Berry temper tantrum. She feels left out."

"Why?"

"I may or may not have talked to Kurt about us."

"Us?"

She didn't expect that. Nor did she expect to have let that word slip off her tongue in the first place. Fuck, she thinks.

"Uh. This. Whatever this is."

"They know?" Quinn asks. She doesn't sound angry or nervous really, just inquisitive. Which isn't surprising because everything about this falls under that category, especially the fact that Santana would talk to Kurt about feelings.

"They assumed. Kurt knows, and Rachel just knows he knows something."

"I see."

"Is that… is that okay?"

"It's fine."

"Like, fine, fine? Or like, girl 'fine' where you're about to be silent and pissed for a few days."

"The first one. Who knew Santana Lopez would be so nervous and paranoid."

"I'm not, I just… This is weird."

"It is, but I like it."

"Me too." Santana says softly, and she's smiling widely again. Idiot.

"So you're coming up here next weekend."

"That is the plan, isn't it?"

"It would appear so. I'm excited."

"Me too."

And suddenly she gets a flash of their encounter the previous weekend. Breathy moans and thrashing limbs. She's going to need a cold shower.

"I have to go to a study thing, but I'll call you tonight."

She's still lost in her thoughts, but after an extended pause she realizes it's her turn to speak.

"Sorry… what did you say?"

Quinn laughs, and it hits her right in the chest. She wants to hear more of that. It's been so long since they were this free with one another.

"I have to go, but I'll call you later."

"Yea, okay. I'll talk to you soon."

"You will… and don't worry, I was thinking about it too."

And with that Quinn hangs up. No goodbye. Nothing.

"Fuck" she says, letting out a deep, shaky breath. Cold shower. Yup. That's going to need to happen immediately.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Another short update to thank you all for your reviews. Things are going to get a bit more tricky after this one, and you'll see why at the beginning of the next chapter which should be up in the next day or so depending on how patient I am.

* * *

_She can feel her heart beating in her ears when Quinn takes her bottom lip between her teeth and tugs. Her heartbeat is forgotten then, as she lets out a moan. Then, Quinn's pulling away… and Santana's trying to pull her back down for another kiss; A thousand more, if she had her way. But, Quinn just shakes her head. Their eyes meet and for a moment she gets lost in the hazel abyss filled with speckles of green and grey. They're mesmerizing. But then Quinn's lips are trailing down her neck, hands running up and down her sides and before she can even process what's happening she looks down and finds Quinn staring at her most intimate junction._

"Fuck" Santana pants, arching off the mattress before quickly realizing that A) she's alone. And B) She's in her apartment in New York.

She shuts her eyes as tightly as she possibly can, trying to calm down.

She checks herself in the mirror and grabs a towel before leaving her little partitioned room and venturing towards the bathroom. She doesn't even notice Rachel and Kurt staring at each other with wide eyes in the kitchen, but she does here them break out into laughter once she's closed the bathroom door. It's quickly followed by Rachel's muffled voice "At least we don't have to worry about her using up the hot water."

Awesome, she thinks, before turning the shower on until it's almost painfully cold. It doesn't take long for it to reach said temperature because they're in the ghetto, and it's winter.

After her shower she sits on the toilet for a good five minutes wanting to avoid running into her roommates. Realizing how ridiculous that is, she forces herself to leave the bathroom.

They laugh when they see her walk in and she simply raises her middle finger and ventures back into her bedroom, quickly changing into warm clothes.

Her phone pings and all her irritation vanishes as she reads her incoming message.

"Good Morning. Can't wait to see you this weekend."

"Right back at you, Fabray. In class?"

"Yup. This is my view"

Attached is a kid slumped over in his seat wearing pajamas, and crocs… with socks on.

"Gross. You Ivy League kids don't have a dress code? That kid should be ashamed of himself."

"My thoughts exactly."

"I'm about to head out and catch the train… I'll call around lunch?"

"Sounds perfect, I have a break between 12:30 and 2:00"

She doesn't respond, nor does she let Quinn know that she already has her schedule memorized because that would be far too pathetic. It's not like she's a creeper or anything, but between their daily discussions and Facebook, it wasn't hard to figure out.

At lot has changed over the past week and a half. She has her thing with Quinn… She sorta has a job… She's working part-time in the mailroom at some PR firm, which isn't exactly on her desired career track, but it's 9 to 6 so she'll get nights to herself, and the Tuesday through Thursday schedule is also incredibly convenient. It won't be enough for long, but it will do for now. It also doesn't start until the following week, so she'll get to spend an extended weekend in New Haven, which is equal parts terrifying and exciting.

She calls Quinn while sitting on a bench in Central Park. The other girl doesn't even say hello when she answers, and what she does say causes Santana to choke on her latte.

"Any reason particular reason as to why Rachel would be sending me texts about 'Dream Quinn'?"

"What?!" She says once she can speak again. She's going to fucking kill Rachel.

"I just received a text that says, and I'll paraphrase because it was about seven sentences too long, 'if dream Quinn is anything like real Quinn, then I may have to re-evaluate my relationship'."

"Christ."

"Care to comment?"

"Not really. Rachel has a huge mouth, and loves to butt into other peoples' business."

"I'm not talking about Rachel."

"Oh." She more breathes than says. "I just… it's nothing, just a dream."

"And I'm in it?"

"Obviously."

"You're really bad at this."

"At what?"

Quinn's silence gives her the chance to catch up with this conversation.

"Christ, Fabray. Are you trying to have phone sex? On your lunch break?"

Phone sex is a bit louder than the rest of her sentence, garnering the attention of an older couple slowly strolling past her. She rolls her eyes at their stares, but she is a bit embarrassed.

"Well, I was. Not so much anymore."

She sounds disappointed, which Santana catches immediately.

"No. Shit. It isn't that. I'm just… in the middle of Central Park. And… wow. You really are full of surprises."

"So it's not something you're against? Good. I was beginning to wonder who I was dealing with."

"Of course not. Well, Yes. But hear me out."

"Okay."

"You're driving me crazy. Completely. I can't stop thinking about that night, while I'm awake and obviously while I'm asleep. And I've taken more cold showers over the course of the past week than I ever have in my ENTIRE life, and I want the relief. I do. But, I don't want to be the one to do it. And I don't want the next time you take me there to be on the phone. I just… I want it to be you."

And she feels like such a sap when she's done speaking. And the moments that pass while she's waiting to hear Quinn's response are long and painful, but when she hears the other girl breathe "Okay" in a way that seems full of admiration and wonder and want, she knows everything is okay.

"Please tell me you went back to your dorm."

"Of course, who do you think I am?"

"I don't know. But I'm enjoying finding out," she answers honestly.

They're both still flustered and a bit awkward when they hang up forty-five minutes later, but in a good way. They don't get a chance to talk that evening, but Santana makes sure to scare the shit out of Rachel when she returned home.

The next few days pass rather slowly, and they've both toned down their flirting. The texts are still in abundance, and they spent quite a bit of time on the phone, but time still seemed to go on at a crawling pace.

By the time Santana boards her train, after an awkward and far too annoying send off from her roommates who she was hoping she wouldn't have to see that morning, she's incredibly nervous.

She fiddles with her hands, and doesn't manage to listen to one song on her iPod for more than thirty seconds the entire journey there. But, once she steps off the train and makes her way through the crowd and spots Quinn, all of that is gone. Suddenly she feels confident. Or at least comfortable. Her nerves have ebbed and as she closes the distance between them, the smiling on her face mirroring that of the blonde before her, her soul takes flight.

"Hi." Quinn says, and suddenly there's a role reversal. The blonde is nervous.

Santana simply chuckles, dropping her bag, and bringing her hands up to cup Quinn's face.

"Hi." She says, still smiling.

Her eyes flutter close and she forges ahead, pressing their lips together.

Everything clicks into place.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Hey guys! Sooo I was going to wait until tomorrow to post this, but thanks to kind reviews and new Quinntana spoilers that have blown my mind I decided to post it tonight.

To address a few questions, or one topic in particular being Brittany... All I can say is that she will be a part of this story. Not a large one, by any means, but this takes place from Santana's point of view and realistically Brittany has, and most likely will continue to, play a huge roll in Santana's life. Whether that be as her best friend, or simply someone who helped her become the person she is today. I don't think Santana would be able to move on and have a new relationship with a girl thats a real, true relationship without thinking back on things with Britt. She may come in a few chapters from now, but it won't be romantic, at least not in the present sense. This is definitely Quinntana. There will be slight mentions of Faberry. But it will most likely be one sided, so don't stick around if you think there's going to be a weekend binder of Brittana lovin' or a Fapezberry threesome in the big apple. Not that any of you have eluded to that. I would be remiss not to mention how incredibly gay Quinn has always been, especially in terms of Rachel. It won't be something I spend a lot of time focussing on, but it will be mentioned, probably in passing and between Q/S. Wow, that got long and most of it was just me spewing my thoughts here. Scuse :) I hope you enjoy this new installment It's got angst and fluff and that's a great combo in my book.

Please keep reading and reviewing, it's helpful. Feel free to ask questions, and I'll do my best to answer them. I've got some fun things planned for these two, and it won't always be smooth sailing. It really couldn't be with these two fire crackers. This one picks right up where the last one left off!

* * *

The kiss doesn't last long, because the instant she feels Quinn tensing in front of her she pulls away. Their eyes meet for a moment, and then Quinn's looking away.

She feels a lot of things.

Everything almost.

But mostly she feels sadness, and confusion, and disappointment, but then something clicks. She realizes that maybe this isn't about her. Or about Quinn not wanting her. It's about something else. And then she feels like an asshole.

"Fuck, Quinn, I wasn't thinking… I'm sorry." She mutters, trying to get the other woman to look at her.

Quinn just shakes her head and lifts a hand. Not necessarily to silence her, but to say 'not now.' And that's okay too.

They stand there for a short time longer, and she's not sure how much time has passed and she can almost hear Quinn's thoughts flying through her brain at warp speed, but then they're moving. Quinn's lifted her bag and whispered "It's cold, come on."

Then they're in a cab. And it's silent. She tries to read Quinn, but she's got that crazy blank face going on that always used to piss her off. It's a bit annoying now because she wants more than anything to know what the girl is thinking. In a way, she does, but she needs to know exactly what's going on in that pretty little head of hers. So mostly, the blank stare and those invisible walls are frustrating because for the first time she really wants to know what Quinn feels, and the distance her disposition creates is unsettling in a way that's completely foreign to her.

Quinn leads her into her dorm room, and she finds herself examining the girls side of the room, smiling as she finds familiar faces and times framed in various places and the books and little details that are just all so Quinn. But then she hears sniffling and her eyes immediately fall to the blonde sitting on her bed looking smaller than she's ever seen her appear before. She can see Quinn shrinking, and literally feel her disappearing into an abyss that is all too familiar and she won't let that happen. She can't.

"Hey." She whispers, taking a seat in front of Quinn on the bed. "Look at me." She pleads. And when Quinn doesn't, she starts to get scared, starts to doubt whether or not she's truly capable of dealing with this situation. It feels too soon.

Quinn just cries harder and it breaks something inside of her and all of a sudden it doesn't matter if she's enough. If she's equipped to handle this, whatever this may be. Because she has no other choice.

"Please, look at me baby, you're scaring me."

And she can't even process the fact that little moniker came from her mouth, because for whatever reason Quinn is looking at her. Cheeks stained, eyes over flowing with tears.

"Talk to me." She says while lifting a hand to wipe both new and old tears from the other girls face.

"I'm sorry." Quinn manages to let out, and Santana finds a lump growing in her own throat.

"Come here." She whispers, and watches as Quinn hesitates for a moment before moving into her arms. She simply holds her, rocking a bit as the other girls sobs become more intense. She's shaking. And Santana is terrified.

"It's okay. You have nothing to apologize for, okay? Nothing."

Quinn doesn't cry. Not like this at least. Not in front of her. Not ever. She acts on instinct and can't help but worry if the other girls back will be sore later from the severity of her crying. She's come a long way since the accident but Quinn admitted during one of their chats that she still has some residual pain from time to time. A constant reminder of how close she came to the end, of how far she's come. That's not how she said it, but it was somewhere along those lines. She remembers it being poetic, beautiful, and nearly brining her to tears as she too realized how she almost lost one of her best friends.

Her hands find their way around Quinn, and run soothing circles on her back. She's practically rocking her now, and it's still so strange. Eventually she starts to calm down, and Santana presses a kiss to her forehead as her breathing slows and she realizes the other girl is now asleep. It's not all too surprising because sob fests always tire her out and she knows Quinn hasn't been sleeping much, working ahead so that they could make the most out of this weekend. She told her not to, she'd sit around and watch Quinn study all day if she had to; she just needed to see her.

Santana leans back against the wall and finally allows herself to relax completely now that the blonde in her arms has fallen asleep. She runs her hands mindlessly through Quinn's hair and soon finds herself drifting off to sleep.

When she wakes up again she's lying on her side and is covered by a quilt. Again, she's alone. For a moment she thinks she's back in New York, but she quickly remembers where she is and what went on upon her arrival and it's then that being alone irks her. Quinn left again. Not that she could have gone very far, but it still stings a little. She sits up and stretches looking around the room for any sign of where the blonde can be, but comes up empty. Until she spots the girls cell phone, which means one of two things: either Quinn hasn't gone very far, or, she didn't want Santana to be able to contact her.

Turns out it's the former, because the door opens a few minutes later and shuts quickly. Their eyes meet, and she smiles softly.

"Sorry, I had to pee." Quinn says, and she can tell that the girl wants to appear confident, pretend earlier didn't happen, but her voice betrays her.

She wants to crack a joke about waking up alone again, but she knows it wouldn't go over well. For starters, she doesn't even know where they stand at the moment.

"What time is it?" Santana asks, reaching for her cell phone. It's 7:30.

"We slept a long time."

"It would appear so." Santana chuckles, setting her phone back down and looking up to where Quinn is fidgeting with her hands beside the bed.

"I was thinking we could go out to this little restaurant across town. I've been wanting to try it and I hear they have awesome breadsticks."

They both smile at that comment, and things feel normal again. Almost. That's a start.

"No." Santana says shaking her head.

"What?" Quinn asks, confused. There's a flash of something Santana recognizes as being self-consciousness on Quinn's face and she immediately reaches out and pulls Quinn down onto the bed with her.

"Let's order in."

"Santana." Quinn lets out a sigh. "I don't want you to think… It's not that I'm… I'm not afraid to be in public with you, okay? It's not like that."

Her lips quivering and Santana fears she's about to cry once more and she doesn't want to see that, so instead she decides to place a quick and delicate kiss on her lips.

"I know." Santana says, pulling off Quinn's shoes and maneuvering them so that they're lying down on the bed facing each other. "And we can talk about everything tomorrow okay? And we can go to that restaurant for dinner, but tonight I just want to stay right here."

"If you're sure." Quinn whispers.

"Positive." Santana says, bopping Quinn on the nose causing her to roll her eyes.

"I'm really glad you're here."

"I am too."

Quinn moves a bit closer, their faces only inches apart now.

"I'm sorry about earlier."

"Hey, none of that. I told you. Tomorrow."

"I know, I know. I just…" Quinn sighs and then shakes her head.

"Tell me."

"All I've been thinking about the past two weeks is how badly I wanted to kiss you again. To be close to you. And then you get here and I freak out."

"It's okay."

"It's not. But…"

She's not sure who crosses the distance, but suddenly their kissing again, and when they finally break apart they're both gasping for breath. Santana chuckles before bringing an arm up to pull Quinn closer, their chests now flush against one another. She starts the kiss the second time around, that much she knows, and as her hand ventures under the hem of Quinn's shirt and across the milky expanses of her back Quinn gasps providing her with the perfect opportunity to take things up a notch as her tongue easily finds it's way against Quinn's. She groans when she feels Quinn's hand against her ass, and feels Quinn smiling against her.

They're legs become tangled and the throbbing that's been nearly constant since their initial soirée returns ten fold.

They break apart and she laughs pressing their foreheads together.

"You're amazing." Quinn whispers, hands running across her back.

"You're not so bad yourself. Kinda makes me think there was a tutorial session at the ridiculously gay crustacean sham of Jodi "I'm a lesbian, but let me be vague about it for fifteen minutes even though Newsflash everyone's known for decades" Fosters."

Quinn laughs and it's a true laugh, all sadness seemingly gone from her body for the time being.

"There definitely wasn't a tutorial."

"Pamphlets then? Because you just…"

"What?"

"You know exactly what to do to drive me wild."

"Maybe I just know you, ever think about that? We've been around each other for years, maybe I've always known how to press your buttons and now I'm just using that power for good and not evil."

It's her turn to laugh, but Quinn's lips finding her own swallow it. When Quinn moves to trail kisses down her neck, and her hands find their way onto her stomach Santana lets out a groan.

"See… Maybe it's just you." Quinn whispers in that husky tone of her that should be illegal, lips hovering above her ear. "But I guess I'd have to test that theory to be sure."

She doesn't like that idea. Not one bit. Even though she knows Quinn is teasing, the fact that she holds no true claim to Quinn causes something to light up inside of her. She's a jealous person that much is pretty obvious given her history. And the idea of Quinn being like this with someone else, no, another woman, is enough to make her flip them over so that Quinn is on her back and she's looking down at her.

"I don't think so." She says before capturing Quinn's lips once more. It gets heated rather quickly, and soon enough their shirts are gone and when Santana finally pulls away they're both gasping for breath. She allows herself to look down at Quinn, and sits back until she's straddling her so she can really take it all in.

"What?" Quinn asks after an extended silence.

Santana just shakes her head as a soft smile plays across her lips, allowing both of her hands to explore the skin in front of her. Toned stomach, teasing lace covering the swells of her breasts.

"You're beautiful." Santana says, and it's almost full of disbelief, which doesn't make sense because Quinn's beauty is like an undisputed truth. But, right now, as the other girl lies beneath her, cheeks flushed, hunger in her eyes, it's like Santana is realizing it for the first time. It's overwhelming.

She doesn't get to think much about it because Quinn is reaching behind her to unclasp her bra before doing the same with her own and then their chests are pressed together and their lips are seeking one another's and it's perfect. Except something stops her when Quinn's reaching between them to the button on her jeans.

"What?" Quinn asks, and there's definitely more than a hint of frustration in her tone.

Santana just sighs and rolls to the side, pulling Quinn into her as she tries to catch her breath.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong. We just… I think we need to talk before we do that again."

"You're kidding right?"

When Santana doesn't answer, Quinn huffs.

"Fine, let's talk."

Santana laughs, finding Quinn's obvious frustration both humorous and endearing because she feels the same damn way. She just knows this shouldn't happen, as much as they both want it to, and she hates herself a bit for taking the high road or whatever the fuck this is other than crazy.

"No. We'll talk tomorrow like I said. Just… Come here."

Quinn lets her win this one, and moves so that she's practically lying on top of her, head resting in the crook of Santana's neck.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes." Quinn nearly groans, and then smacks Santana lightly when she laughs.

"For food, I mean."

"Oh. No."

Now that they've cooled down, Quinn lets out a yawn that gets caught in her throat when Santana reaches for the zipper of her skirt and start to undo it.

"I thought you said –"

Santana nods, and helps her skirt down her legs before removing her own pants and tossing both off the bed.

"I did. And I meant it. Somehow I'm still exhausted and as lame as it is, I'd totally be okay with calling it a night, but I just want to…" She doesn't finish the thought, doesn't have to, because Quinn slips a leg between her own and wraps an arm around her middle sighing contently.

It's not how she expected to spend her first night in New Haven, but with Quinn pressed against her, drinking in the silence, she realizes that this might be better.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: So sorry for the delay, I was travelling and working and sick and blah blah blah. This is somewhat short, but I wanted to give you all something to tide you over. Thank you so, so much for your kind words and reviews.

* * *

When she wakes up the next morning she smiles because it's immediately apparent that she isn't alone. Quinn's arm is wrapped tightly around her middle in a way that almost makes it seem like the other girl was afraid she would be the one to wake up alone this time. Her breasts are pressed firmly into her side and her breath tickles where it comes out evenly against her neck. So, yea, she smiles, until suddenly everything is heavy and her thoughts become much bigger than they should be because this is a huge moment. It's no secret she's been with her fair share of people, mostly men due to her being deep in the closet, but she's only ever woken up with one person.

Brittany.

And at first it meant nothing and then it meant everything and now, knowing it will never happen again and having come to terms with that, to be in this moment... To be experiencing this feeling for the second time with Quinn of all people, she has to talk herself off of the proverbial cliff of baggage and word vomit and her own panic because this is where she wants to be and as big of a moment as it seems to be, it isn't really. It's right. So she embraces it, pulling Quinn against her a bit more and forcing herself to relax.

They have plenty to deal with without her freaking out over non-issues.

Quinn almost hums happily as she flutters awake and Santana cranes her neck to see the way the other girls eyes slowly open and she stifles a yawn.

"Morning." Santana whispers, brushing the stray hairs away from Quinn's face so she can get a good look at her.

"Morning." Quinn says softly, and it sends Santana's heart fluttering. "I hope I didn't squish you." Quinn says, gesturing to where she's laying half on top of the other woman. Her clothed center resting on the Santana's thigh, her own clasped tightly between Santana's legs. It's about as intimate as you can get, and the acknowledgement of it sends Santana's libido into warp drive once more, but she ignores it, accepting this welcome alternative.

Quinn stretches before turning onto her side and clasping Santana's hand in her own.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Perfectly."

"Good. Sorry my bed is so small."

"That's okay, gives me an excuse to feel you up."

"Do you want to go to breakfast?"

Santana just shakes her head, tucking the hand that isn't connected to Quinn's underneath her head.

"You aren't hungry?"

"I am. I just want to stay like this a little while longer. God, That sounds corny."

"Okay."

They lay there just drinking the other in. There's a bit of silent conversation that's akin to "I can't believe this is happening." And "I'm really glad it's you."

And it's one of those moments Santana knows she's going to remember long from now, even if this thing between them fades.

This is a milestone.

For both of them.

It's for different reasons, of course, but it's a turning point of sorts and whatever happens next will be decided together and that's the best part:

The togetherness of it all.

She knows they have a lot to discuss, that Quinn will have a lot to deal with. Coming out isn't easy, no matter when or where or to whom you're doing it. It just isn't, and Santana wonders if it ever will get easier. If there won't be that moment, however short, right before you allow the words to fall from your lips granting someone access to your biggest secret, your most essential truth, that won't feel like the walls are closing in on you. That there will ever come a time that fear won't be involved. She doubts it. She's secure in who she is, hell, she planted a kiss on Quinn in the middle of a train station… but there will always be that moment, however fleeting. And it's a strange thing to realize that something like the moment they're experiencing right now, something so pure and beautiful and right, could be the source of any sort of anguish or fear. Then again, everything in life worth having, everything in life that you give a damn about comes with a bit of fear. Life's just one big bitch of a catch 22.

"What are you thinking about?" Quinn exhales.

"Nothing." Santana says, which almost isn't a lie.

"Liar."

"Just… this." She says motioning between them. "And life."

"Getting philosophical on me?"

"No." Santana says shyly.

They're inches away from one another, and there's no one else around, but they're still whispering because with what they're discovering together it just feels right to be reverent.

Some time later, after countless stolen kisses that remain tame and sweet, Santana's stomach audibly growls, causing Quinn to laugh.

"Come on, let's go have brunch. There's this place with bottomless Mimosas close by."

"Booze and breakfast… Are you trying to get into my pants Fabray?"

"Maybe."

Twenty minutes later they're strolling across campus, and the Quinn at her side this morning is a bit more reminiscent of the girl she imagined showing her around campus. She gives little bits of info about certain buildings and where she has classes, and Santana wants so desperately to grab her hand, but she doesn't.

"I don't know what I'm doing." Quinn whispers across the table after they've finished their feast and are working on their third pitcher of Mimosas, just because they can.

She's not sure what to say to that, because it's so incredibly vague and open ended and she has the tendency to think the worst in any given situation and react without thinking. She doesn't want to lash out, but more than that, she doesn't want to believe that there's a chance this might not work out.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Is what she finally responds with.

Quinn nods, and Santana pays their bill, waving off Quinn's attempt to cover their meal.

Quinn leads them to Edgewood Park, and she's pleased to see there aren't many people around. It's beautiful, and when they finally stop walking and take a seat on the grass in front of the water, she realizes that Quinn's hand is clasped firmly in her own. She doesn't know when it happened, but one of them is holding on so tightly it almost hurts. Maybe they both are.

"What did you mean?" Santana asks.

"Exactly what I said. I have no clue what I'm doing. What this means. What I am… And I want to figure that out, don't get me wrong. I want… I want you. But I'm scared."

"It's okay to be scared. This is… this is a big deal. And believe me, I know it's a lot to figure out. I'm here for you, okay? You're not alone."

"Thank you." Quinn whispers, bringing their joined hands up to her lips and pressing a light kiss to Santana's knuckles.

"It's fucking cold." She says a short time later and Quinn thinks it's a cue that she's ready to leave.

"C'mon." Quinn says, and almost loses her balance when Santana yanks her back down and pulls her into her chest.

Quinn tenses at the same time she leans back into Santana's arms. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, and if this is too much let me know, but no one is around. No one knows us. Just… if it's okay, let's just stay here for a while."

"Okay." Quinn more breathes, than speaks, moving her arms to rest on top of Santana's that are wrapped securely around her middle.

"Okay." Santana says, placing a quick kiss to Quinn's neck before resting her head on her shoulder. "So, tell me about Yale."

"You know about Yale."

"Not Everything."

"Well, no, I guess not."

"So… tell me, I don't have all day, Blondie."

Which isn't true, because she does. They have all weekend even.

Santana curses when they finally make it back into her dorm room hours later.

"I can't even feel my fingers." She continues, until she notices Quinn wincing as she takes a seat on her bed.

"Are you okay?"

"Yea, my back is just stiff."

Santana drops her bag to the ground and moves towards the bed.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?"

"You need a massage." Santana says with a shrug. Quinn can't help but smile because as innocent as she knows Santana's intentions may be, there's also something else hiding right under the surface of her words. The unavoidable subtext of the situation… There's need and there's want, but it all comes second to making Quinn comfortable.

She takes off her shirt and watches Santana's eyes fall to her chest before she stops herself. Quinn throws off her bra too, for good measure, and feels self-conscious the moment it hits the floor. Quinn tries to cover herself, but Santana's too fast.

"Don't." She whispers, bringing her hands up to Quinn's face. "You're beautiful." She says, before really allowing herself to look at Quinn's exposed skin, her cheeks reddening and breathing picking up. "Lie down." Santana asks, and Quinn obeys.

"Totally not fair that you get to check me out, and you're still in a fucking parka."

"You're pretty confident face down on the bed, I'll have to remember that." Santana chides, straddling the blonde's hips. She concedes a few moments later, removing her own shirt and bra before leaning down to speak directly into Quinn's ear, breasts resting between the other girls shoulder blades. "Better?"

Quinn groans and Santana can't help but giggle.

"Relax, I'll make you feel better." Santana says gently, and it's one hundred percent true. The noises Quinn makes as she works out the kinks in her back are delicious and she wants nothing more than to turn her over and take her that instant, but that can wait. For a little while.


End file.
